


when you're not looking

by strawberriez8800



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Drabbles, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24623650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriez8800/pseuds/strawberriez8800
Summary: Tommy wore his beauty like a badge of privilege, used it as his means of conquest, impressed it upon enemies until there was nobody left to say no to him. In the end, Tommy would always get what he wanted.Snapshots of Tommy and Alfie, 100 words per shot.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	when you're not looking

**Author's Note:**

> Don't have any plotty fics to write for them at the moment, so have a little thing made of 100-word moments of aimless fluff :3 
> 
> Chronological order if you squint. Drabble prompts from Tumblr.

**i. duende: unusual power to attract or charm**

Tommy wore his beauty like a badge of privilege, used it as his means of conquest, impressed it upon enemies until there was nobody left to say no to him. In the end, Tommy would get what he wanted. Always.

“How’s it that your face is so fucking pretty and unmarred, seeing as you’re a cutthroat gangster who grew up like a rat on the streets?”

Tommy suspected then, that Alfie was no exception to the rule; the suspicion was but confirmed when Alfie interrupted their business meeting to edge Tommy up against the wall, to feel their mouths brush.

* * *

**ii. apodyopis: the act of mentally undressing someone**

When it came to Tommy Shelby, clothing was redundant. Such a ridiculous wardrobe he had. Strutted around like the most expensive whore in London, only to let Alfie take off his clothes, piece by piece, when no one was looking.

So it stood to reason, didn’t it, that Tommy would simply walk around arse-naked if Alfie had any say in the matter.

Would be quicker that way. When the time came.

As it was, Tommy was one vain cunt who insisted on looking like a fucking tree ornament, so Alfie had to make do with undressing him with his eyes.

* * *

**iii. cheiloproclitic: being attracted to someone’s lips**

Alfie glanced up from the documents, blue-grey eyes meeting blue. “I’d hate for my mouth to be the downfall of Shelby Company Limited, wouldn’t I?”

Tommy’s gaze dropped to Alfie’s lips again. Half-hidden beneath his beard, traces of their fuck were obvious on his mouth—swollen, pink, and there was a graze at one corner from the moment Tommy had ravaged Alfie’s lips with a tad too much fervour.

Blood had oozed from the cut. Tommy had licked it away, kissed it better.

Nonetheless, the red lingered. A remnant from a waking dream. A distraction worth the ruin of his empire.

* * *

**vi. basorexia: an overwhelming desire to kiss**

The instant the door clicked shut behind them, Alfie braced Tommy against the door and kissed him fucking silly.

“Been waiting to do this for the whole damned day,” Alfie mumbled into his mouth.

Leaning into him, Tommy sank his hands into Alfie’s hair. “Didn’t need to wait til’ we’re back.” He sealed his lips over Alfie’s. His beard was coarse against Tommy’s mouth. The coarseness scraped along Tommy’s jaw, down his throat—then, Alfie’s hot, wet tongue and the softness of his lips as he sucked at the delicate skin.

There would be marks on Tommy’s throat the next morning.

* * *

**v. baisemain: a kiss on the hand**

Tommy was kissing Alfie’s hand like Alfie wished he would kiss his mouth. Or his cock. Not that Tommy didn’t on other occasions, it was just, at this moment, he did seem ever fascinated with curve of Alfie’s palm, the lines of his fingers, the skin on his wrist.

Alfie was not complaining; the view of Tommy worshipping the hand that had raised him from hell was pleasantly obscene.

So Alfie curled his unoccupied fingers around his frankly neglected cock, and fucked into his palm to the feeling of Tommy’s mouth, his tongue, his teeth on his lucky, lucky hand.

* * *

**vi. brontide: the low rumbling of distant thunder**

Alfie paused at the distant roll of thunder. He withdrew his mouth from Tommy’s cock, blew a puff of air on it playfully, and said, “Gonna rain. You take the laundry in?”

Tommy wasn’t amused. “No.” The word was a small shallow pant, by courtesy of Alfie’s craft. “Now, continue with what you started. Please.”

Alfie obliged; it was difficult to refuse a face like that.

Another rumbling of thunder.

Alfie stopped again. “I’m out of trousers. And underwear. Can’t let them get wet now, can I? Sit tight, petal.”

Tommy threw a pillow at him on his way out.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [@strawberriez8800x](https://strawberriez8800x.tumblr.com/)


End file.
